The night wore on without Addison noticing.

A series of thin clouds meandered across the sky, occasionally blocking her view of the stars, and often trying to hide the moon. The air down closer to the earth was stiller than whatever moved the clouds around.

Not a single breeze had touched her face when the door opened behind her, sometime later. The scraping noise broke her reverie, making her unsure how much time had passed since she had thrown her little fit.

“You coming to bed, Addy?” Matilda said from the doorway.

Her voice was rough as always but timid. It was not a quality Addison had ever associated with the old hag.

“Yeah.” She didn’t look back as she responded.

It wasn’t like she had anticipated sleeping out in the open, laying on the cold hard ground. It would be uncomfortable at the best, and that said nothing of the wilderness that surrounded them.

Silence regained its throne in the stale air around them.

Footsteps shuffled into the house, and then came forward again. The door didn’t move, and Addison could only guess what was happening behind her. It had been a long day, and she wasn’t sure she could keep her cool if the witch kept up her antics. Even for a lonely spinster with a mean streak they had been bad.

“You’ve been gone a while, Addy. I finally mastered a spell from the old book.”

Addison kept her eyes upward at the sky, but they also widened. “The nightshade?”

Matilda snorted. “No.” Her shuffling footsteps moved from the front door to the patch of dead grass. She didn’t sit down, but she did lean and tap Addison's shoulder, motioning for her to pay attention. Dense muttering followed the action as she stood up. The noises became a chant with inseparable word and rhymes.

Several moments later, the mumbles became a rolling and echoing yell, ending as a puff of airy dust left Matilda's hand.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Addison hadn’t looked over to see what the witch had been holding, but the pouch wouldn’t have told her much anyways. All the pouches looked the same; cut from scratchy burlap with zero markings on the outside.

The dust continued to rise in the air, lifted above the oxygen the two women were breathing. It was carried up and away by some force that neither of them felt- perhaps by sheer magic and will power. True magic was rare. Most of it was written in tomes like the old book, grimoires, and books of shadows. Ancient languages and yellowing pages.

The spells were archaic and arcane, unusable by the vast majority of humans- and even most creatures that weren’t. In all the time that Addison had been with Matilda, she had only mastered 2 other pages and only a few in the witches lifetime before that.

Odds were good that this would be something very special to witness.

As the particles got too far and separate for their eyes to distinguish, the sky began to change. Addison's mouth opened slightly as if to ask what was happening, but the words didn’t form. Her eyes were focused on the air above her, and all her other thoughts melted away as fast as they formed inside her head.

The space above them had transformed. The night sky had dropped down into the atmosphere, and the dust had become stars, swirling right above their heads. It was if the universe had heard Addison's wish earlier, and found a way to make it come true. It seemed unreal that the spell the witch had learned would be so real; so visceral; and so timely all at once.

When the illusion had faded, Addison looked over at the witch- now sitting down next to her. “How?”

A crooked smile washed over Matilda’s face, and she stood up without answering. “Time for bed,” she said and walked inside.

----------------------------------------

After the demonstration of the spell, things went back to normal. Addison felt a tug at her feelings about whether it was for better or worse. The bitter back and forth settled, but there was that had been the last warm moment they had.

Instead, Addison ran errands, cleaned the cauldron and vials, and generally resented being traded between human riffraff. She daydreamt about slinking back to the fairies, usually when she was supposed to be doing something else.

The general atmosphere of the shack was well represented to her as a banging come at her door one morning just as the sun rose.

“Addy!” Matilda roared on the other side of the door.

“It’s not locked…” she responded flatly, eyes not wanting to be open.

The wood scraped against the floor, like all the other doors in the house, letting in the hallway lights and cool air that rushed in the front end.

“There is a pouch of coins on the table. You need to get me supplies before you leave.”

Addison sat up, her heavy eyelids barely letting her see the empty doorway.

“Of course,” she muttered and swung her legs over the edge. “Whatever would you do without me?”